Unspoken Promises
by Eomer'sFaelwen
Summary: Hook overhears a conversation aboard the Jolly Roger that changes everything, and complicates the string of promises, both spoken and unspoken, that he's made to Emma Swan since leaving Storybrooke.


The night was quiet. It was not a quiet that inspired comfort, but rather one that put even the hardened Killian Jones on edge. For days it seemed to him that they were standing on the verge of a precipice, gazing down into the abyss below. None of them, not even he, knew what truly awaited them upon their arrival on Neverland's shores. That, more than anything, unnerved him.

He was more than confident in his skill at navigating the island. He had sailed it's waters for more years than he cared to count, and knew its jungles, its beasts, and its terrain with a practiced ease. But things were different this time. For one, he had never truly been responsible for his party. The lads of his crew had, in days gone by, followed him with the understanding that any man that falls behind, is left behind. Their lives had been utterly their own to live or to carelessly throw away as they so chose. But now...

It was a burden that he hadn't asked for, yet one that he had felt himself shoulder the moment he had gazed into her eyes and offered his help. Though his wish to be of service to her was sincere, he had unwittingly made several unspoken promises at the same time as he had uttered the first. Not for the first time, he cursed his unguarded tongue and the fiery woman who made it slip more often than he would admit.

The sea was silent tonight; only the soft slap of water upon the hull reassuring him that it still surrounded them. Not a breeze sighed through the air, and nary a gull glided upon its silent currents to offer a piercing cry.

Yes, he was very uneasy indeed.

Pushing aside the feeling he quickly descended the steps from the helm of the ship and continued downward towards his cabin, intent on putting at least a few hours of sleep behind him before dawn broke the horizon. He passed the first cabin at the foot of the stairs, hearing a delicate snoring beyond the thinned wood. A scowl twisted his mouth as he passed, hoping rather cruelly that Regina would find herself amongst nightmares tonight. The saying said that there was no rest for the wicked, but in his vast experience he had not known any person who was black of heart to lose a wink of sleep.

Across the hall stood the Dark One's quarters. The room beyond the worn wooden door, from what he could tell, was silent. Yet another villain resting peacefully aboard his ship. His scowl deepened as he slipped further down the corridor.

As he approached the next door, a sliver of light seeping from the seam beneath gave him pause. Given the late hour, it surprised him that Snow and her "charming" prince would be awake. The door was ajar only slightly, enough for him to hear a muffled conversation coming from the room beyond. Sure enough, he heard the light sweet voice of Snow, intermixed with the gruffer, and slightly raised voice of Charming.

A light smirk replaced his scowl as he began to move forward towards his cabin once more. _Marital problems, eh __**mate**__?_ He thought, laughing quietly to himself.

The sound of a third voice caused him to stop mid-step beside the door, his body frozen right before the small crack in the doorframe. His smirk vanished, replaced by an angry glare that would have withered the most hardened of men.

The Dark One was with them.

His whole body was tensed, barely restraining himself as his name fell from Rumplestiltskin's oil slick lips.

"-would just listen to me. I'm telling you, your majesties, not for my own ends but for your daughter's own safety. You _must_ keep Hook away from her. I've seen the way she acts when he is near. She's falling for him already. It may be too late as it is. You must do all in you power to keep her _away from him_," he finished, the final words dripping acid.

"Now you listen to me Gold," spat Charming, his voice equally venomous. "Emma has more sense in her head than to fall for that slimy, villainous pirate. You have no business telling us how to take care of our daughter. I _know_ my daughter, and sh-"

"But that's just it Charming," Rumplestiltskin interrupted, "you don't."

Killian had stopped breathing, straining now to hear every word that was said beyond the door. His heart pounded, a combination of lack of air, adrenaline, and something else he couldn't quite place.

"Charming," began Snow, her voice soft and hesitant, "he's...he's not wrong."

"Mary Margaret, you've got to be kiddi-"

"No Charming," she said forcefully, cutting him off, "You didn't see her back in the Enchanted Forrest. And even in Storybrooke, when he stumbled back into her life. And here...David, you may be blind to it because it's not what you want to see, but I've seen enough to know that Mr. Gold is right. She may not be in love yet, but she's well on her way."

Killian's head dropped to examine the smooth wood between his boots. Against his will, a spark of hope ignited inside him, burning away the darkness it found there.

"He's a _pirate_ Mary Margaret," whispered Charming, distain mixing with the disbelief that colored his tone.

"You fell in love with a thief once..." she reminded him gently.

Killian's head jerked upward and fixed on the golden light escaping through the crack in the door, the spark bursting into flame inside him even as he tried desperately to quell the blaze.

"David, when I needed your daughter to go to New York with me to find my son, I told her that every moment we stay in Storybrooke was a minute closer to me killing Hook. There was a reason that I brought him up before I even began threatening you and Mary Margaret. She left to _protect him_." he admitted, his tone quiet and strangely gentle, "Look, I just wanted to warn you that this was happening so that you had a chance to stop it before he took her from you like he took Milah from me. My mistake. Shouldn't have bothered," he muttered, an edge of his usual scathing anger and annoyance creeping back into his voice.

Uneven footfalls and the rap of a cane began to sound as the Dark One made his way to the door. Without thinking, Killian launched himself further down the hallway, quickly wrenching open the door nearest to him, remembering only as he did so the room that lay beyond.

He slipped quietly inside, moving with the practiced grace of a shadow. The door clicked shut behind him as he gently pulled the handle, holding his breath as if that would keep the hinges from creaking and giving him away.

His listened intently as the footsteps of the Dark one receded back down the hall, and waited till he heard another door close in the distance before letting out his breath in a soft sigh of relief.

His relief was short-lived, however, as his thoughts returned to his present predicament. He pivoted slowly on the spot, straightening himself as he tried to think of any small lie that would excuse his sudden, unwanted presence.

Thankfully, there was no need.

A second sigh of relief escaped his lips. She was still fast asleep, and little wonder, he mused, after the events of the past week.

Her flaxen hair spilled across the white pillow, a golden river that flowed endlessly off the wooden edge of the simple bed. Her stormy eyes were closed, lashes resting gently across the top of her cheeks. One hand lay across her stomach, the other carelessly resting beside her head on the pillow. Her wool coat lay strewn on the floor, though otherwise she was fully clothed, too exhausted from the day to prepare herself properly for bed.

Killian looked at her through new eyes, a sudden sense of worthlessness beginning to overwhelm him.

_What could I possibly have done to deserve such a sacrifice?_ He thought dismally. _She left her home, her family behind to go with the Dark One...to keep me alive..._

_Why?_

He found himself edging closer to the side of the bed, needing to look more closely at her, hoping somehow to divine some sense of reason for why she had given her protection, of which he was so wholly undeserving.

It couldn't possibly be true what the Dark One had said. Someone so...good...couldn't possibly...

And yet, Killian found himself kneeling by her bedside, questioning every glance, every touch, every word ever spoken between them. Before tonight, he hadn't dared hope that she might return his feelings. For a while, he had hardly recognized them for what they were himself.

Shaking fingers tentatively brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, the gleaming strand slipping softly past his fingers. His eyes studied her sleep-softened features, wishing both that she would wake and that she would continue to dream. She shifted slightly, her face fitting itself into his opened palm. A small smile graced her lips, softening her features further into a look of simple contentment. Her breathing continued, deep and unbroken, assuring him that she was still in the world of dreams.

He smiled himself, wanting to savor this stolen moment. His thumb traced a small leisurely pattern across her cheek as he drank in her every feature.

"I know..." he whispered, his voice barely audible above the quiet sound of waves lapping the hull. "I know now what you've done for me Emma Swan. And with whatever gods who live above as witness, I promise to return your boy to you as my thanks."

He paused, his murmured oath still fresh upon his lips, inwardly warring with himself before his head gave in to his heart.

"With this kiss, I seal my oath..."

He leaned forward slowly, his breathing slow and deep, matching her own. His lips pressed softly against her own, his hand softly caressing her cheek. He lingered there, not wanting to break away, knowing all the while that she was causing him to make an even greater number of unspoken promises, just as she had as they stood together in the harbor of Storybrooke.

He pulled back slowly, eyes darting around her features to see if he had woken her. She remained still, her breathing unaltered, her serene countenance untroubled.

He pulled his hand away, his fingertips training reluctantly across her smooth skin before parting with her cheek. He stood carefully, not wanting her to wake as he left her alone once more. He moved, ghostlike, out into the deserted hallway, stealing one last look before he shut the door behind himself.

His own cabin greeted him, the sight never more welcome after the series of events that had transpired this night. Yet though his bed beckoned him with the few tantalizing hours of sleep he had left, he hesitated at the door, his gaze fixed on the room he had just left.

With a quiet sigh that carried a world's worth of different meanings, he closed the door slowly, shutting it with hardly a click of the latch.

He inhaled, feeling the air expand deeply within his lungs, calming him. Though he doubted sleep would come easily tonight, it was sleep he needed, for he had promises to keep on the morrow, and Killian Jones never broke a promise, even those left unspoken...


End file.
